


A Fool Off His Guard, Could Fall And Fall Hard

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arabian Nights Fusion, F/M, Family, Grief/Mourning, Handfasting, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Male Slash, Prayer, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron guards Sibyl and Nasir with his life and wishes that he could kill all that pains them. He is blessed, but never stops feeling precarious and unworthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Day Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [When The Sand In The Glass Is Right](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1049805/chapters/2099821).
> 
> The fic's title is a lyric from the song 'Arabian Nights' by Alan Menken, Howard Ashman, and Tim Rice, from the Disney film _Aladdin_. Thanks for all the lovely kind words about my previous Arabian-flavoured _Spartacus_ fic. I hope you guys like this one too :)

 

 

The baby was crying. Agron frowned into a pillow and nudged back a little into the person curled around his back.

 

  
“Your son is awake.”

 

  
Nasir snuffled and sighed. “My son is always awake.”

 

  
The baby was getting louder, but there was also the sound of Sibyl talking quietly, Kore too. Then Sibyl sang softly, the words muffled through the stone walls that separated the rooms but Agron could muzzily pick out the words of a well-worn lullaby. The baby was listening also, it was quieter now.

 

  
“He will command well with a voice such as that,” Agron commented through a yawn.

 

  
He forced himself to sit up, the sun was climbing through the sky and there was always work to be done. There was always someone who needed to see Nasir as well, and Agron could not be found sprawling naked in the _ama_ ’s bed. He smiled down at Nasir, at the _ama_ 's tangled hair and sleepy affectionate eyes, and trailed a wondering hand down that beautiful face. He had such love in his heart for this man. Nasir was nuzzling into his touch, such an action never failed to set Agron’s heart beating fast. He was beloved of the _ama_ , of Nasir. A blessing indeed.

 

  
Agron pulled on loose _mattas_ and was just tugging on his blue _kelsmar_ when there was a light knock at the door. Nasir sat up, combing hair out of his eyes and blinking sleep away – the _ama_ was sliding more strongly to the fore. Agron nodded, he was ready too. Love still burned in his heart, now it would be fuel also.

 

  
“Come.”

 

  
At Nasir's command, Laeta entered the room, a couple of serving girls trailing in her wake. Laeta smiled slightly at her _ama_ and at Agron, a warm expression that only they could see, but she was all controlled reverence and humility as she spoke.

 

  
“The household accounts are ready for you, Your Grace, and Spartacus has news from the scouting parties.”

 

  
“At this hour?” Nasir sounded both impressed and disbelieving, but he levered himself beyond the bedsheets and lifted his chin towards Agron, a casual gesture, but Agron felt it like a caress. “Agron tells me my son wakes even earlier in fine voice to greet the sun. Tell Sibyl they both must be presentable for the morning meal.”

 

  
Agron dipped his head. “Your Grace.”

 

  
Forcing himself not to linger his gaze too long on Nasir, Agron turned to the room's other door, which lead directly into the next room, Sibyl's room. He knocked once and entered without pause. He was Sibyl’s Shadow after all; she didn’t expect him to wait.

 

  
Her chambers were well-appointed, with fine furniture and luxurious fabrics covering her bed. Sibyl herself was dressed in a rich pink _yanti_ that made her pale skin glow, her dark hair piled upwards and her arms full of Kifat. Agron could not hide his smile, Sibyl looked beautiful and happy and Kifat was healthy, waving his tiny arms and legs. This was what Nasir had worked so hard for, this was what Agron would die to protect.

 

  
He raised an eyebrow questioningly and Sibyl shook her head in reply – Kora had left to eat her morning meal. She would no doubt return soon to aid with the baby so that Sibyl herself could eat. Agron’s brow wrinkled, he did not trust Kore, despite Sibyl’s reassurances.

 

  
“Here, he missed you.”

 

  
Sibyl handed over her son and Agron carefully cradled the child, memories of holding his brother always stirring when he struck such a pose. Pain still thrummed in his heart at such thoughts, it always would. Sibyl leaned against his side, resting her head against his shoulder, her hands reaching to stroke her son’s downy cheek. Agron pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He was aware of her silent prayers, her consideration was a blessing.

 

  
Kifat mewled and Agron swayed his arms, reciting scraps of songs that he remembered, intertwined with the creak of his mother’s chair and his father’s humming. Kifat was a beautiful child, how could he not be with such parents? His hair was dark and soft and his eyes matched, inquisitive and expressive. His skin was the same dusky colour as Nasir’s but his expressions were often uncannily Sibyl.

 

  
There was a gentle tap at the door and at Sibyl's word, Kore entered, smiling when she saw Agron’s position.

 

  
“He sleeps well in your arms,” she commented. “You have a gift.”

 

  
Agron nodded politely, at Sibyl’s behest he was attempting to be civil to the former Romus. “He is a gift; I merely do what I can to lighten my Lady’s burdens.”

 

  
Sibyl smiled at him and gently retrieved her son. Kore did not comment, but Agron could guess her thoughts, many in the palace believed that Sibyl had chosen Agron to be her personal guard, not just because of his actions in saving her life during the attack on the palace, but because she desired him to share her bed. Laeta had reported such rumours with a smile on her lips.

 

  
“You do not believe me so desirable?” Agron had asked her, almost offended.

 

  
Laeta had looked greatly amused. “I believe your desires lie with the stallion, not the filly.”

 

  
Nasir had laughed and had pointed out the potency of Laeta’s report – people wishing to find a crack in Nasir’s armour to exploit might believe they could use Agron. A few had attempted conversations with him about his position in the household, but Agron had always told them, through clenched teeth, that he would have time for such talk later. His instinct was always to crush those that spoke ill of the people he loved, but Nasir wished to find out who was behind such conversations, who was ordering the discovery of such information, and so Agron was forced to play a long game. It was dissatisfying, but it did yield fruit, and root out traitors. It also made Nasir happy and wear that malicious smile that stirred Agron so.

 

  
So Sibyl allowed others to see her smiles at Agron and his towards her, knowing it could uncover who was loyal and who held ulterior motive, looking to exploit such things. Agron cared little for what people saw – he loved Nasir and Sibyl with different parts of his heart, and was reminded each day, unbelievably, that such notions were returned. That was what mattered to him.

 

  
“Our day begins,” Sibyl announced.

 

  
She gestured for Kore to lead the way, and once the midwife’s back was turned, Sibyl gently bumped her shoulder to Agron’s, another reminder, and Kifat burbled with noise. He was beginning to learn this world and already owned a piece of Agron’s heart. Agron would do all to ensure that Kifat’s remained unbroken.

 

  
*

 

  
Kore entered their lives thanks to Spartacus. He, Crixus, Naevia, and many others were defending the Kingdom of Soman’s eastern border, the attack both a genuine attempt at invasion and a distraction, allowing others to enter the palace in Cull, hopeful of harming Nasir. The battle at the border was gruelling and men were slain on both sides. But the Guards, Chosen Men and Spartacus would not give up and eventually, those leading the Romus chose to run. Crixus and Naevia wanted to follow but Spartacus argued that even with Mira, Saxa, and Agron on guard alongside the remainder of the Chosen Men, the palace had been left too vulnerable.

 

  
They made prisoners of those who had not managed to escape, half-dead and exhausted – “a prize for the _ama_ ,” Donar grinned – and began the journey back as swiftly as their horses allowed. They were almost halfway when Spartacus noticed that one of their prisoners was no warrior, her manner betraying her, so he grasped her chains and demanded an explanation. He’d take no Romus spy to Cull.

 

  
Her name was Kore, and she was the personal slave of Crassus, an ambitious leader amongst the Romus. She had been well-treated, until she hadn’t been and so she had decided to leave, joining Crassus as he made camp in preparation for the attack and then slipping away during the confusion of retreat. Her large eyes were haunted and Spartacus could see the pain that she kept under her skin – that part was no lie. So he allowed her to live and decided to take her back to the _ama_ , much to Naevia’s disgust.

 

  
Nasir listened to Spartacus’s tale of the attack and bowed his head with sorrow at how many men had been lost. He ordered that the prisoners spend some time in the dungeon, but that they be allowed to bathe and be given fresh clothes. They would not be treated like animals, for now.

 

  
He asked that Kore be left with him. Sibyl sat beside him, her expression curious as she regarded their prisoner. Agron stood behind, unimpressed, and Saxa and Mira, dressed as always like woman whose only concern was the _ama_ ’s happiness, clustered close to him, their eyes sharp and their hands and feet ready.

 

  
“I would hear more of you,” Nasir told Kore. “Your story holds merit, but is too small. Why did you leave?”

 

  
His tone was one not to be broken, unexpected from a slight pampered-looking youth. Kore looked at him, her gaze sliding to Sibyl, perhaps seeing her own plight in the younger woman. Sibyl smiled softly.

 

  
“I do not live in fear,” she said, quiet and strong.

 

  
“Neither did I, at first. I was…I cared for those I served, for my master and he for me.” Here, Kore paused, slight tremors of something rippling through her, but she saw no escape, perhaps she saw Agron’s swords and remembered the armed men who stood beyond the door. She continued. “Then his son, now approaching manhood, who I had cared for since birth, grew so angry with his father. I bore that rage.”

 

  
It was not the whole story but Nasir nodded. “You would only bear my anger if you harmed those I love. What do you seek here?”

 

  
“Peace.”

 

  
Sibyl spoke up. “You helped your mistress when she bore children? That will be of use, should we be so blessed.”

 

  
Nasir stroked her hand and nodded again. His expression was implacable when he turned towards Kore. “For so long as you cause no harm, you are safe here.”

 

  
He signalled to Mira, who left the room and returned with Laeta, who had waited patiently nearby once Spartacus had brought her news of their battle and prisoners. She looked at Kore assessingly before turning towards Nasir.

 

  
“Kore, she served many years amongst the Romus. See that she is put to work.”

 

  
Laeta dipped her head in acknowledgement and guided Kore away. Kore would be watched, of course, as Agron once was. She could be a spy, an abused one but still a spy, or she could intend to sell what she discovered in the palace for freedom beyond Cull’s walls. She could have spoken the truth.

 

  
So far, it appeared so. She became friends of a sort with Laeta and once Sibyl fell pregnant, Kore revealed herself to be skilled and valuable. Many in the palace did not trust her, Crixus and Naevia openly scorned her, and Agron remained unconvinced that one who had loved the Romus could truly be without deceit. But Nasir reiterated that she had done no harm, only good – she could have attempted to ensure that both the baby and Sibyl did not live. The opportunities for harm were great, though Sibyl and Nasir were so often safe, thanks to the Chosen Men, and thanks to their Shadows.

 

  
All that Kore had so far revealed was that while she was battered by what she had been through, she had survived intact, and that her affection for Kifat real and warm.

 

  
Laeta continued to watch her, as did Agron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**  
>  _kelsmar_ \- traditional shirt without sleeves, always worn unfastened and open  
>  _mattas_ \- loose trousers, gathered and tied at the waist  
>  _ama_ \- beloved leader  
>  _yanti_ \- a beautiful and highly-colourful silk dress that falls to its wearer's ankles. Usually sleeveless and easy and revealing to dance in.


	2. The Look

 

 

Agron spent most of his days with Sibyl, which usually meant he was with Nasir also. But sometimes Sibyl needed time that was her own, not the _ama_ ’s, and Nasir needed to take meetings alone, though his Shadows were never far away, secreted high at the windows or just beyond the doors, their eyes or ears always upon him. Agron was happy so long as he knew that Nasir and Sibyl were safe.

 

  
When he had time alone, he would spar with Donar, Lugo and Spartacus, even Crixus, or he would talk with Spartacus or Naevia. Donar often mocked him for the way he looked at the _ama_ , though in front of those without knowledge of the truth, Donar mocked him with Sibyl’s name instead. They could bait many traps with such talk.

 

  
Agron’s conversations with Spartacus often broke painful ground. Spartacus quietly spoke of his murdered wife, Sura, who had been beautiful and dark-haired, a lush oasis in a back-breaking desert. She had had a gift, and had warned him of the death that awaited them if he fought. She had been right – Spartacus had almost died many times and Sura herself had paid a great price for his defiance. He would not bow to the Romus. Sura’s name was carved beyond his skin and was in his heart whenever he cut down Romus's warriors. The day he first told Agron this was the anniversary of Sura’s death.

 

  
A handful of weeks later, under a familiar hot sun, Agron spoke of Duro, of his teasing words and quick feet, his flighty heart and rich laugh, how his body had slumped in Agron’s arms with a last happy smile. He had told a little of this to Nasir and Sibyl, but Spartacus was first to hear the fullness of Agron's grief.

 

  
Spartacus did not offer words of comfort, nor did he speak of how time passing would lessen the pain. He only nodded and thanked Agron for thinking him worthy to hear such words. Agron lit an extra candle in the Sol that day.

 

  
*

 

  
“I've seen the way he looks at your guard.”

 

  
Agron stiffened at Kore's quiet words. He was outside the door, so positioned to allow Sibyl privacy whilst also being close in case of trouble. Sibyl knew he would hear everything, Kore clearly did not.

 

  
“The _ama_ looks at many people,” Sibyl replied, a smile in her voice. “His love overflows for this city, and for his kingdom.”

 

  
There was a taut silence, broken only by Kifat's whimpers and the sweet sing-song noises that Sibyl made to entertain and soothe him. Agron strained to hear more, his heartbeat fast beneath his skin, anticipation keen and sharp in his veins. Was Kore finally going to reveal her treachery? He held his breath.

 

  
Kore spoke again. “The way he looks...whatever he has told you, whatever promises he has made, his eyes have wandered already.”

 

  
“To my guard,” Sibyl clarified, that smile still in her voice. “I am not blind, Kore. But thank you, for voicing such concerns.”

 

  
The silence was loaded now. Agron wished he was in the room to see their expressions, to read Sibyl's gestures. Kore did not say any more, she did not attempt blackmail or threats. Before, she had sounded...concerned, as though Sibyl needed protecting. Sibyl already had all the protection she needed.

 

  
Agron frowned. Sibyl and Nasir were going to mock him for his rooted suspicions, but he was still going to keep a watchful eye on Kore. She had not attempted harm yet, but that did not mean she would keep such a position forever.

 

  
*

 

  
One night, Nasir called a private meeting. Sibyl was present, along with Agron, and Saxa and Mira of course, and Spartacus as well as a few Chosen Men – Crixus, Naevia, Lugo, and Donar. The designated room was small and simple, no friezes on the walls, no grand drapings or expensive furniture. The whispers in the palace were that Nasir was furious about the latest border rumours. Those not invited stayed far away from the meeting room, fearful of becoming caught by the _ama_ 's temper.

 

  
Inside, several candles were lit. Nasir wore green and gold, his chest bare except for the jewel necklace that marked him out as _ama_. It was a sight that caused Agron's mouth to dry. Nasir smiled and held out his hands, Donar and Mira each offered him one of their own. Nasir spoke words of authority and joy, his smile warm as he looked at them, his hands cradling their intertwined fingers. Donar could not look away from Mira and she wore a smile that was small and genuine. It was searing to realise that for once, she was without a veiled expression. She was still likely heavily-armed though.

 

  
Nasir wrapped a strip of cloth around their wrists, binding them loosely together as he spoke the final words. Then he paused and Sibyl stepped forward, her gold _yanti_ shimmering in the dim light. She appeared like a vision; something conjured by flame and fervour. She began to sing-speak prayers, prayers of happiness and blessing. She glanced at Agron and he found himself, falteringly, joining in. It had been many years since he had spoken such words.

 

  
When the prayers ended, Sibyl smiled widely and leaned against Agron's chest. Donar beamed and swept Mira into a passionate embrace, a feat somehow managed despite their still-bound wrists. Something like happiness was dancing across Naevia's face, Crixus's broad arms wrapped around her. For once, the two of them appeared neither restless nor furious.

 

  
Laughing, Nasir tugged the cloth free from the newly-handfasted couple. Agron was deeply aware of the beaded threads around his own wrist. He would only ever wish to be bound to Nasir, but such an idea was the stuff of fever dreams. He might have had Nasir's heart, but Nasir was wedded to his kingdom.

 

  
As though summoned by such thoughts, Nasir directed his smile towards Agron and Agron's heart constricted. Handfasting did not truly matter, he was inextricably tied already.

 

  
*

 

  
Evening arrangements were fluid. Now that the baby had been born, Sibyl was not expected to frequently share Nasir's bed, though plans were already afoot for when they would try for a second child. When Sibyl did visit his room, Kore stayed with Kifat and Agron watched over Nasir and Sibyl, finding room on the bed beside them. Sibyl was there when she didn't want to sleep alone, when nightmares clung to her, when violent threats had been particularly close. The three of them slept well together, comforted and reassured, at peace.

 

  
Sometimes, a ground-down Nasir wished to sleep alone so a worried Agron would share Sibyl's bed, her head pillowed on his chest, her body limp with deep sleep. That was how safe she felt with him. Despite his worries, Agron often slept well too.

 

  
Most frequently, Agron slept beside Nasir, the _ama_ 's lithe body a wondrous miracle that Agron could still scarcely believe he was allowed to touch. Nasir always reached for him and whispered words against his skin, words that Agron treasured close to his heart. When sleep was far from their thoughts, Nasir sat astride him, hips rocking, eyes closed in ecstasy, or he would drive into Agron, encouraging and greedy, drinking in kisses like a dying man. Then he was unshackled, then he was always Nasir.

 

  
“He can be selfish with you,” Sibyl told Agron one morning when they were praying in the Sol.

 

  
She lit a candle with an expert elegant hand and smiled soft and sad. She looked both young and old, a mother and a child. Agron twitched with questions.

 

  
“He chose me, no, the _ama_ chose me for his kingdom, because he knew I would not use his child against him, I would not be swayed into aiding those who seek to destroy all he holds dear. I would not ask more of him than civility. But you, you are entirely Nasir's choice, you are his **desire**.”

 

  
Sibyl’s smile was happy now, with a depth of feeling that made Agron feel unworthy. She murmured prayers as Agron’s thoughts unspooled. It was true that every action of the _ama_ 's was for his kingdom, lies and truth spun into complex layers as he strove to keep Soman safe from invaders and from greed inside the kingdom.

 

  
“I…I am blessed, for as long as he allows me to be,” Agron managed.

 

  
Sibyl shook her head and her gentle fingers touched the beads at his wrist. “You have his heart, for as long as you desire it.”

 

  
She still sounded happy and her fingers intertwined with his as they prayed. She was wrong – she was not merely something that belonged to the _ama_ and the kingdom. She was family, she was beloved by Nasir. She was Agron’s family now too.

 

  
The prayers continued

 

  
*

 

  
Agron tried not to think of the nights when Nasir and Sibyl had shared a room together without him, making attempt to cement the combined future of Nasir's bloodline and Soman. On those nights Agron had slept amongst the Chosen Men, for the first time since becoming Sibyl’s Shadow. He had left Saxa and Mira to keep watch over the _ama_ and his lady. It had been only a duty, for both Nasir and Sibyl, as it would be again. But Agron still could not think of it.


	3. Lifelines

 

 

There was noise at the front gate; Agron heard it as he followed Sibyl and Kore through a wide palace hallway. Whatever the cause of the commotion, some Chosen Men were there to deal with it. Donar peeled a helmet from his head as he slowed to a stop before Sibyl. He half-bowed, his expression respectful and warm. He frequently made Sibyl smile when on guard in her presence, talking quietly and openly whenever protocol allowed. Now, in a crowded hallway, such openness was not safe.

 

  
“We have been recruiting for the ranks,” he revealed. “Some are already showing themselves less than amenable.”

 

  
Sibyl laughed and looked as though she was about to reply, when she suddenly paled instead. Agron ground out a curse, because he recognised that voice too. He glared at Donar.

 

  
“You brought fucking Gannicus here?”

 

  
Donar frowned. “The _ama_ ordered it.”

 

  
Sibyl’s smile was tight. “Thank you, Donar. Tell the _ama_ I will be in my chambers, when he has need of me.”

 

  
She walked swiftly towards her destination; Agron’s steps matched hers, his mouth a hard line. Why would Nasir have Gannicus brought here? Why would he do something that hurt Sibyl so? Kore was silent, Kifat whimpering in her arms.

 

  
Once inside her chambers, Sibyl let out several shaky sighs. Her body was limp, for once not the strong reed that gracefully bent as the kingdom needed her to. The last time that Agron had seen her so defeated, he had killed the man who had dared to put hands on her. He wanted to kill again now.

 

  
Kore looked worried and unsure and soothed Kifat, laying him carefully down in the soft basket that had cradled him for weeks now. Sibyl managed a better sort of smile.

 

  
“I will call for you soon, Kore.”

 

  
The worried look did not leave Kore’s face, but she left the room. Agron immediately took steps towards Sibyl, and within moments she was pressed to his chest, his arms around her, her breathing heavy. No tears fell but Agron knew that they were close. Anger burned in him, Gannicus deserved worse than the dungeons.

 

  
Sibyl shook her head. “It is of good sense – the ama had ordered that those who are successful in fighting are to be brought to the palace. It would appear strange indeed if Gannicus was not summoned.”

 

  
Agron snorted, but he could see the logic in her words. Suspicions would be roused if Gannicus was not brought in for an offer of work; he had always been one of the most accomplished participants on Cull’s streets. Perhaps such suspicions had been roused already; perhaps Nasir feared that Gannicus would be hunted and stealthily taken by the Romus for questioning and an offer of harmful work. Still, it did not seem right that Nasir had not spoken of this to Sibyl, or Agron.

 

  
Agron’s teeth were grinding again. Nasir was his; the ama was wrapped in secrets. Sometimes Nasir couldn’t tell them things for many hours. Sometimes.

 

  
Sibyl shook a little but pulled back, Agron’s arms still warm around her. She looked as though she needed them. She tried to smile a little, but the expression crumpled quickly. Gannicus had not left her heart.

 

  
“I will not hide from him, perhaps….perhaps he needs…I don’t know.”

 

  
Her confusion was new but the way her eyes focused on Kifat was familiar and tugged at Agron’s heart. It was painful but Nasir must have ordered Gannicus here for a reason. Sibyl asked the Chosen Man outside her chamber door to seek out Kore and leaned over the baby’s basket, singing softly. It calmed the room.

 

  
Once Kore returned, Sibyl asked for help in making herself look well for the ama. When Kore hesitantly asked if Sibyl was truly well enough for an official audience, Sibyl smiled, her eyes flickering once to Agron.

 

  
“I must be.”

 

  
She looked radiant of course, Agron always thought so, and Kifat looked happy in his mother’s arms. As Sibyl walked ahead of them, Kore spoke quietly. It made Agron almost startle, Kore rarely spoke to him without others involved in the conversation.

 

  
“She is too pale.”

 

  
Agron nodded. Sibyl was pale and with good reason. Kore’s concern was a positive sign, but Agron was still not inclined to share too much with her. It was Sibyl’s story to tell after all. But Kore had proven that she cared for both Sibyl and Kifat, she would be of use if Gannicus struck close again to Sibyl’s heart. And Laeta would know if Kore spread even a crumb of this secret knowledge.

 

  
“One of those brought in today, he held Sibyl’s heart and did not treat it well.”

 

  
That was all Kore needed to know and she inclined her head, her wide eyes for once seeming angry and her lips pressed together, as though holding herself back. Agron could say no more because he could now hear Nasir’s voice and there was the _ama_ , sat in the largest hall, his gestures filled with regal meaning. Saxa and Mira wore pale yellow and smiled adoringly at his every word. Gannicus had just been dragged to his feet; he looked as though he had drunk a great quantity of sweet wine and there was a fresh cut on his arm. His expression was glazed and smirking, but it sharpened when Sibyl appeared.

 

  
Nasir’s smile was warm with no hint of apology; there could be none when he was so entrenched in the _ama_ ’s duties. His hand was soft on Sibyl's arm though when she sat down beside him, and she leaned trustingly towards him, an acceptance of his actions, their child contented and wide-eyed in her arms. It was a beautiful, charming picture and Agron had to fight to keep his smile pinned down. This was his family. Sibyl’s gaze briefly touched his, her affection clear and enveloping.

 

  
Gannicus looked…his smirk had melted away. He looked as though he wanted more wine. Nasir turned back towards him.

 

  
“So that is your choice. A refusal will not gain you harm.”

 

  
“I am to believe you?” Gannicus sounded almost amused.

 

  
Nasir’s smile was equally amused. “To do so is a wise choice. None here have regretted it.”

 

  
Gannicus snorted but stayed otherwise silent as Nasir pressed a light kiss to Sibyl’s mouth and a soft hand to his son’s head before he trailed towards the door, Mira and Saxa eager beside him. Agron ached to leave with them, to talk to Nasir, to feel for longer the warm reassurance of his presence. But Nasir only smiled at him, a wealth of hidden meaning and apology in his expression, their hands briefly touching as Nasir exited. Of course Agron would stay; he would not leave Sibyl with Gannicus.

 

  
Kore stood motionless at Agron’s side, her posture expectant and her eyes sharp. Agron should not have found her presence reassuring, but he did.

 

  
Sibyl had gotten up from her seat and sent a small smile towards Agron. “The Sol soon, Agron.”

 

  
He dipped his head briefly. “My Lady.”

 

  
Gannicus’s expression twisted with amusement and something darker. “I said you would find yourself a better man.”

 

  
Sibyl’s smile was entirely real and strong. “The _ama_ has been a blessing.”

 

  
She gently jostled the baby who was starting to complain a little, her smile still real and warm as she gazed down at Kifat. Gannicus gazed at the child too, something incredibly raw seeping into the cracks of his expression. He probably thought he was hiding how he felt, but Agron had spent weeks studying Nasir and learning how so much could be hidden between blank lines. He could see Gannicus’s pain, it pleased him.

 

  
“This is Gannicus,” Sibyl told her son. “He saved your mother’s life.”

 

  
Gannicus’s mouth flickered into something like a brief smile. “Once perhaps, now your life is your own.”

 

  
“It is the _ama_ ’s,” Sibyl corrected, both firm and gentle. “This life has its blessings.”

 

  
Gannicus glanced around, spying a _waynet_ and a pair of beautiful metal cups. He poured himself a drink, his gestures deliberately casual.

 

  
“So you are his woman, and he treats you well.”

 

  
“He does. He is a dear friend.”

 

  
Gannicus drained his cup quickly and filled it once more. “Many women are not so blessed. His eyes stay upon you?”

 

  
Sibyl’s smile became careful and she walked towards Kore so that her face was hidden from her guest. She let the silence spread as she gently handed Kifat to Kore. Kore pressed a caring hand to Sibyl’s wrist and Sibyl’s smile hitched. Agron caught her eye, truly she was not alone.

 

  
Gannicus was watching them, curious and attempting to make sense of the world he was now sprawled in. Agron remembered that feeling. He scowled at Gannicus, who merely raised the full cup towards him, the fuck.

 

  
“He regards me with great affection,” Sibyl said at last, her hands steady as she tucked Kifat’s clothing more securely around him. “He is honest in his love.”

 

  
“As he loves those other women? And her?”

 

  
Here, Gannicus gestured towards Kore who’s back straightened at being so addressed. She kept a firm grasp of Kifat and did not speak, her lips pressed thin. She deliberately turned her gaze to Sibyl who brushed light fond fingers to Kore’s shoulder.

 

  
“The _ama_ admires beautiful things and so surrounds himself with them.”

 

  
She did not deny Gannicus’s accusations, perhaps to prevent him from later blurting forth secrets when too deeply drowned in wine. Kore’s smile was small and genuine at Sibyl’s words.

 

  
“Is that your life? To be a beautiful thing in a beautiful palace?”

 

  
Anger pulsed dangerously through Agron as Gannicus spoke. He had no right to speak in such a way to Sibyl. Sibyl herself sent a quick look towards Agron, silently begging him not to draw sword yet, before turning back to Gannicus, her face beautiful and composed.

 

  
“My life is to be happy.”

 

  
She gestured to Kore and the two of them began to walk towards the door. Sibyl paused to brush a hand over Agron’s fingers, much as Nasir had. It reassured Agron and caused him to smile.

 

  
“See that he is safe beyond the palace walls,” Sibyl told him softly. “The Sol will wait for you.”

 

  
She cast a smile, aching and bird-like in its quickness, over her shoulder at Gannicus. “You will always be welcome here.”

 

  
Gannicus and Agron watched her leave, Kore a quiet reassuring echo beside her. Agron turned his gaze towards Gannicus and grabbed the cup from his grasp, wine spilling over his fingers and onto the floor.

 

  
“Come.”

 

  
Gannicus looked amused again, his smirk firmly in place, though the rawness was still visible to Agron. “And are you one of the _ama_ ’s beautiful things?”

 

  
A smirk crawled across Agron's face, for he was proud of where he stood beside the _ama_. “I am blessed to guard his favoured lady, to die for her, should it please him.”

 

  
It wouldn’t, so Nasir had told him urgently, when he had traced Agron’s scars with his tongue. _My place is to keep Sibyl safe, above all things_ Agron had replied and Nasir had looked troubled. He had then spent much of the night biting marks onto Agron’s skin, as though ensuring Agron could feel how much his living was desired. Agron always found great pleasure in the marks Nasir left on him.

 

  
_No longer do I only seek death_ he had reminded Nasir, breathless with desire and pained as always by memories of Duro _I will not welcome its touch_. But he would put himself in its path if such an action ensured that Sibyl and Nasir lived. Nasir had made an unhappy noise, but he had not commanded Agron to keep himself safe above all things. He knew Agron's value too.

 

  
Gannicus was struck silent for once as Agron led the way out of the palace. Sibyl’s love looked almost deep in thought, sadness clinging to him like cobwebs. Good.

 

  
Agron paced towards the palace gates, nodding at the Chosen Men and Guards who sparred and stood on duty. Gannicus shook his head; it seemed he had found his voice once more.

 

  
“Such a life, confined behind walls, bound by commands, I see no boon in it.”

 

  
Agron’s laugh cracked; the beads on his wrist threads clacking as he moved. His fingers instinctively sought them out.

 

  
“To serve the _ama_ pours forth blessings unnumbered,” he replied, his tone filled with private moments and the notes of many friendships. “To be bound by his commands even more so.”

 

  
For Agron was unbound by them when the evenings were theirs, then it was only him and Nasir and no orders lay between them. It was a boon that Agron could scarcely describe, warmth filling every inch of him at such a thought, at the memories he had collected so far. He looked at Gannicus and recognised the chill deep under the man's skin, disguised well to all but those who had also known such grief. Who had Gannicus lost? Who had burned his heart?

 

  
Sibyl deserved better, but her heart had chosen and still clung to this man. Agron would not betray her confidence, but he would impart the meaning that her own words had been so full of before.

 

  
“She misses you.”

 

  
His words caused a sharp lifting of Gannicus’s gaze, Agron’s eyes stayed steady and fastened on him.

 

  
“Do not treat that lightly.”

 

  
He gazed a few moments more at Gannicus and then turned, leaving him outside the gates, with words and thoughts on chew on, and with a rent unmended in his heart. Agron’s own heart was still broken, but Nasir’s affection and Sibyl’s closeness lifted his spirit in ways that he had previously thought impossible. He still believed himself unworthy, but when his thoughts darkened, he would think of Duro, waiting for him in the next life. Oh, Agron would drown in his blessings, the perfect way to die.

 

  
Pausing, he turned and saw that Gannicus was moving, to seek out wine most likely, and willing company and a fight. Agron shook his head; perhaps a few fists would realign Gannicus’s thinking. It had taken far too much for Agron himself to see things differently; it had taken an attack on the palace and Sibyl’s terror (which still haunted her nights) and a look on Nasir’s face that had been filled with such tremendous love. It made Agron stutter to think of it. If he had not stayed at the palace, what would have happened to Sibyl that night?

 

  
Once more inside and having made his way to the Sol, the warm yellow of Sibyl’s _yanti_ seemed to glow as she lit a candle. Agron reached for another wax token on which to scratch Duro’s initial. He brushed careful fingers to Sibyl’s shoulders, to let her know he was there. She inclined her head but did not crumple; she was the reed once more. Together they prayed, words drifting sad and strong in the silence.

 

  
Later, once Agron had sparred and eaten, he was summoned to the _ama_ ’s room. Sibyl was curled up alone on Nasir's bed. Kore was audible in Sibyl’s next-door chambers; Kifat’s burbles a reassuring background. Sibyl and Agron looked at each other, Agron knew well the pain in her eyes.

 

  
Silently, he stripped off all but his underclothes and ensured that his sword was within reach. Then he lay beside Sibyl and stroked a hand down her back until her troubled eyes drifted shut and her breathing became even and soothing. Agron felt the strong urge to ensure Gannicus's death.

 

  
He was almost asleep himself when Nasir walked in, both tiredness and his Shadows dogging his footsteps. Mira frowned, her eyes immediately fixing on Sibyl, and Saxa spat out a number of impressive curses. Nasir did not blink, rather he stripped down to his underclothes and jewel necklace and slid beneath the bed’s covers, his arm reaching over Agron to gently stroke Sibyl’s soft skin.

 

  
“He gave no answer but his own unworthiness,” Agron reported quietly.

 

  
Nasir dug his chin into Agron’s shoulder, his hair brushing against Agron’s skin. He sighed, echoing what brewed inside Agron.

 

  
“I have command of an army, of the greatest warriors this land has ever known, but I cannot erase her pain.”

 

  
Mira and Saxa had already disappeared like so much smoke, finding a perch, some quiet secret place from which to watch Nasir. One of them would be nearby throughout the night, and the other? Perhaps Saxa would use the time to map her Belesa’s curves and rich laugh, or perhaps Mira would spar with her husband, allowing her true self free.

 

  
Agron’s hand curved back to rest on Nasir’s thigh and Nasir’s arm draped over Agron. They were both silent and possessive. They watched Sibyl until their eyes closed, opening again only when Saxa woke them the next day with news of riots in a neighbouring kingdom, the morning sun’s hot rays painting a greeting across their skin.

 

  
Sibyl rose to see to Kifat, bringing him from her chambers to nestle amongst the bedclothes beside Nasir and Agron’s limbs. Agron was vaguely aware of Kore, silent in the connecting doorway, as Nasir bent down with loving eyes and hands to first kiss his son’s face, then to press lips to Agron’s. Kore was so trusted now? She was trusted with Kifat and Sibyl; she had shown only loyalty since her capture. She had been angry on Sibyl's behalf when facing Gannicus. Agron was deeply disquieted by the comradeship he felt with her.

 

  
His teeth grazed Nasir’s bottom lip, hunger stirring in his guts and below it. Nasir chuckled; unashamed before those he loved and trusted.

 

  
“Were the morning ours…” He kissed Agron again, fleeting and hungry, his fingers stroking through stubble.

 

  
Agron’s hand groped at a nipple, then lingered on the finely-cut jewel that always rested against Nasir’s chest. It was the most brilliant shade of blue. Agron had received marks from it all over his body, from the _ama_ ’s jewel and from Nasir’s mouth. All his days would be so blessed, were the gods unusually favourable.

 

  
Sibyl was smiling again, an expression not yet fully wide and warm but it was true enough. She was clutching something in her hand, wax disks? Agron’s heart constricted, but he nodded. They both still had so many prayers to offer. Kore did not look shocked or troubled, she stayed close to Sibyl as Saxa offered a more detailed account of the messages that riders had brought early that morning. Mira would arrive soon, having kissed her husband goodbye, becoming the warrior once more.

 

  
Agron nuzzled into Nasir’s warmth, it might be all that he had of his love for hours. The _ama_ had much to attend to, no matter what his heart desired. Agron ached whenever Nasir left his presence, so he soaked up what he could, Nasir always did the same. It never felt like enough, he would always hunger for Nasir. How could he not? How could he not lap up every morsel he was granted? He would never be free of the heat that surged through his veins at Nasir’s touch and gaze, nor would he ever wish to be. It was all he desired, it was what had saved him.

 

  
Nasir’s eyes shone as he tangled their fingers, smiling at the sounds spilling from Kifat. His thumb brushed the beads wrapped around Agron’s wrist. Agron touched his free hand to Nasir’s necklace, fierce heat erupting through him once more. He squeezed Nasir’s hand. They were his lifelines.

 

  
_-the end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**  
>  _waynet_ : a wide-mouthed wine vessel, ornate and metal.
> 
> Sequel: [From A Faraway Place](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5410181/chapters/12499637).


End file.
